Sleeping Bags
by Reno Spiegel
Summary: Tseng's yearly evaluation is a camping trip with a challenge. Let the games begin.


Author's Note: Alright. First off, this is a birthday fic for Renee, more commonly known as Lady Spoon. Second off, it was halfway done before I turned it into that, but hopefully I can still have it turn out well. So, happy fifteenth, Ren. And get out of my dreams. x_O  
  
-  
  
Sleeping Bags  
  
--  
  
Happy Birthday, Lady Spoon, Terror of The E-Seas!  
  
--  
  
Reno Spiegel, Feared Captain of The S.S. MiniPimp  
  
-  
  
A high-pitched wail, more of a hiss because of the frequency, drifted among the trees of the infamous Marsh Lagoon, rising and lowering in pitch from time to time, seeming to be a never-ending string of "eeeeeee." This, however, stopped as soon as Rude paused in his walk, letting Reno catch up with him, then smacked him with his class ring in the forehead. Reno, shutting up, rolled his eyes and rubbed his forehead, murmuring about what an ass Rude was these days.  
  
Instead of a yearly evaltuation of his employees, Tseng never being one to like the paperwork, he sent them out into a secluded area of the Midgar Zolom's swamp, known simply as the dreadful Marsh Lagoon. Many were known to enter and never exit, and there were reports of ghosts in the area near the hour of one in the morning. They were ordered to find the open area that he'd cleared out roughly a month earlier, changing every year, and camp for the night.  
  
He'd given them one order. "In a week, you'll be given your evaluation. Bring the equipment you think will be suitable, and we'll take it from there. It's a two-day process, so be prepared." And then, the Wutain man had strode out with a pleased smile on his face, decided to let them take it.  
  
Reno, having been there a year longer than Rude, who was also heavily-prepared, knew what to expect, and was appointed captain. He was given the team's radio and ordered to keep it by him in the event of an emergency. That and whoever made it back first, should it be one of the other two, would radio him. And promptly rub it in his face. Elena, however, having been on the job for three months only, was severely unprepared. She'd brought a pencil.  
  
'Lot of help that did,' she thought miserably, swatting away one of the usual July mosquitos. Reno and Rude, stocked to the teeth with beer and cigarettes, a pillow and sleeping bag to each of them, and a hunting knife apiece, looked ready to go out Rambo-style. A drunken Rambo maybe, but the man all the same.  
  
This, however, left a serious problem among them. Reno had worn a simple white T-shirt, sweat-soaked by now, a red bandana, and a pair of black cargo pants. Rude had completely shed the shirt some miles back, wrapping it around his forehead, and wore a pair of loose white shorts. Elena had worn her three-piece suit, and was damn near ready to strip down and walk along completely nude. If it weren't for the two men behind her, she more than like would have. She was nearly suffocating, and currently swearing at Tseng for not letting her know what was going on.  
  
"Those are the disadvantages of being a rookie, Elena. Next year, this should be a bit easier on you," he had told her, undoubtedly biting his cheeks and speaking slowly not just because he was overloaded with paperwork already. She'd threatened to shove her foot so far up his ass as they walked out, which was a hollow threat, everyone knew it.  
  
The problem was, she had no sleeping bag, and the swamp's floor was muddy due to a recent rainshower. Certainly they couldn't make her sleep on the ground. However, it was just that that Reno was opting for. And Rude wasn't sharing because...well, Rude didn't need a reason for his actions, now did he? He was just Rude, tall, bald, and shirtless.  
  
Or whatever he wanted to call himself. Though he most-certainly was those three things, Reno noticed was some amusement. "Rude?" He was replied to with a grunt of question. "Did you used to play football?" Rude, still wearing his sunglasses, turned his head toward him and stumbled over a root. Reno knew he'd played, but he'd seen that root and couldn't resist. "Ah, nevermind. I don't need to know."  
  
Shooting him what he knew was a withering look from behind those doom-holding shades, Rude hefted his pack higher on his shoulders and walked a bit stiffer. Reno grinned, loving every moment of it, while Elena plodded on, in one of the worst moods of her life as she took an arm and swept away a good twenty mosquitos. She'd neglected to bring bug repellant, too, and knew the other two were just loving her misery.  
  
"Stop." It was Reno's commanding voice that made the other two pause, as he inspected a tree, marked with a sideways "T." The bottom, the way it was pointing, was aimed back where they'd come from, and Elena's heart leapt as her stomach sank, then she started yelling about her untrustworthy captain. "Shut it, 'Lena. Tseng does this to screw with us. Just follow the arrows the way they're not meant to be followed and you'll be there in no time."  
  
Rude nodded in affirmation. These two had been doing this for eight years together, and knew Tseng's secrets. And all of the obvious things that he did, but they figured that knowing his secrets sounded like they'd accomplished something, not just broken into his file cabinets with billy clubs and denied it when he walked in on them reading all the top secret information.  
  
'No one ever did say we were the bright bunch,' Rude silently admitted as Reno adjusted his grip on the cooler and started off again. They lapsed into a brooding silence, one caused by the fact that Elena was still the main concern here, as all three needed to return the following day, and no one had any idea what the hell to do about it. Elena was really hoping Tseng might've felt pity for her and set up a tent for them, but when they arrived at the clearing, there was nothing to ease her mood.  
  
It was, simply, a clearing, as promised. Rude was the first to hurl his sleeping bag across the barren land, easily letting it hit the ground and roll open. His, like Reno's, zipped all the way over the head to allow total seclusion and privacy. Reno's, however, was considerably larger, making him the ideal choice to share with Elena, though he was the most insistant that Rude took her.  
  
They were soon gone in their separate directions to gather wood for a fire, Rude having brought what he called "ideal fire supplies." This meant he'd grabbed a box of matches and a bottle of lighter fluid on his way out the door that morning. Reno, however, was followed by the ever-unprepared Elena, Rookie of The Year. Then again, being the only rookie, it wasn't that hard.  
  
"But Reeeenoooo," she whined, for the third time since they'd set out, the sun already starting to dip below the horizon. In an hour, the mosquitos and God-knows-what-else would descend upon the Marsh Lagoon. They needed that fire. "It's gonna be all buggy out and all stifley and you wouldn't want to leave me on the ground all dirty, would you?" She tried batting her eyelashes at him, something that Reno actually found quite unpleasant.  
  
He leaned down and stuffed some more twigs into his pocket, mainly just to get it going. He'd known lightning had struck here last night, so there was fresh wood around there somewhere. "To get rid of the bugs, sleep in the fire. To get rid of the heat, sleep by the swamp. Your choice," he offered, grinning inwardly all the time. "That or offer me a night of the hottest sex I've ever had, then I'd have to take it into serious consideration." He payed for that with four fingernails in his neck, sending him wriggling and squealing to the foliage-littered ground. "Guess not," he muttered as he got back up and heard her stomping away, seeming quite offended.  
  
Truth be told, Elena was walking over to bug Rude, who had started out just behind them in the same direction. Being the strongest of the three, he picked up the heavier stuff and threw it back toward the campsite while Reno got the smaller sticks. Within five minutes, she found him, hauling a large hunk of wood back to where they'd come from and grunting every step. She gave him her widest smile. "Hello, Rude. Would it be possible for me to sleep in your bag tonight?"  
  
"No." It was a short, straight answer. No from Rude meant don't ask him again, which was exactly what she did, only this time she phrased it as "Why?" Rude, pulling off his shades and standing up to give his arms a rest, looked her dead in the eyes and -- by God -- smiled real wide. "Because I sleep in the nude. Now, if you have any urge to crawl into a cocoon with me after that bit of information, be my fucking guest."  
  
And that, as they say, was the bottom line. Elena stared slack-jawed. Rude grabbed the wood and began his journey once more. And somewhere, roughly three hundred yards to Elena's backside, Reno lit a cigarette and smiled knowingly.  
  
Life was good.  
  
-  
  
--  
  
-  
  
When they had the fire started, it was time for the Turk games. You should know that the Turk games aren't procedure. In fact, if they were procedure, the Turks would have been shut down in the first year. Rude and Reno, in their years of doing this, had created the Turk games. They were games of endurance, with some decency to them. All the rules from the first set had been forgotten to some extent, due to the fact that two out of the three involved considerable amounts of alcohol.  
  
Elena had opted to stay out of them this time, seeing as how she was in a bit less than a good mood, leaving it as Reno vesus Rude. 'Just like it always was,' Reno thought, kind of proud he and Rude had survived the eight years they'd been on the assassination team together. No one ever won anything in the fabled Turk games, but they played just the same, and had already completed the Lighting Round. Rude had passed Reno a lighter, and they had burned the most flying insects that dared come that close to the fire.  
  
Reno had won, flaring up eleven compared to Rude's six. Reno, however, had cheated that game, and used his mag-rod in place of the lighter, giving him enough range to spark off Rude's kills. They had called that game a draw -- Rude pissed and Reno disappointed -- and moved to the second one, simply called Char.  
  
Selecting two of the smallest sticks in the fire, they stared each other down from across the clearing, sitting on their sleeping bags like little, obedient Boy Scouts. Rude grit his teeth, preparing, and hissed out "Go." Two hands clasped around the burning areas of the sticks, as hard as they could, and the two men writhed silently, neither daring to give it up. In this game, the loser of each round had to eat one of the beer-soaked onions in the big tub they'd set up earlier, allowing plenty of flies to sink and die inside. Rude didn't know where Reno had ever gotten the onions, but they always had a peculiar taste and smell, like a rotted piece of wood with the scent of sweatsock.  
  
Elena watched in a mixture of glee and pity as Reno, not able to take it anymore, threw his stick down and moaned loudly, cradling his own hand, which looked seriously burned. Rude set his down with a look of peace on his face, then pointed at the tub, smirked, and simply said, "Eat up, Bug Boy." After throwing his stick at him, Reno reluctantly crawled to the onion tub, reluctant because he DID know where he got the onions, and Tony's Pizza in Midgar had a little less trash in their dumpster.  
  
Lucky for him, it was procedure of theirs to eat an onion apiece first and see if they got sick or died. In that case, Reno found different ones. These had been proven to give you a sore stomach for a few days, but nothing else. Selecting an onion that fit in his palm, he tipped his head back and dropped it in his mouth, chewing and swallowing as quickly as possible before going pale and thrusting his head into the beer-tub, sucking up as much as he could and gargling the taste away afterward.  
  
There was one thing bad about this game; he who got drunk faster felt the burning stick less and less as time went on. Or so that was the way it had seemed to work for Rude in past years. But, after four more burns on his hands and five very rotten onions rumbling around in his stomach, Reno leapt up and proclaimed the bald man a cheater, fed up with his trickery. Rude calmly stood up and held out his hands, and it dawned on Reno that he'd barely ever seen the man's palms, outside of gloves anyway. And it was obvious why. In the years of playing Char with his comrade, he'd built up an army of blisters and burn marks, looking as if they were odd little growths.  
  
"Reno, after losing that game for five years, my hands were so scarred and scabbed that I CAN'T FUCKING FEEL THEM ANYMORE!!!" he roared, his voice echoing into the silence. Obviously enough, Char had been a product of Reno's imagination, which he was regretting as he sat back down and emptied the tub of onions, then turning around and forcing himself to vomit into the empty container. Those onions had sat for a bit too long.  
  
The pair decided not to play the third game, and left it as a tie, though Elena had been anxious to see the last. It was, simply, called Beat The Fuck Out Of The Other Guy. Sure, the title needed work, but it was nice and explanitory. Each man got five physical blows, and the first who fell down or screamed lost. Reno, smoker he was, had been ruled out the first year for using his cigarette, and the first rule had come into play. Thing was, before each hit, one of the two would have to consume an entire beer.  
  
So, it was get in a good first hit or fall down later. Reno, feeling the effects of burning wood and week-old onions, crawled reluctantly and unsteadily over to his sleeping bag, and not because he was drunk. If Reno could do one thing, it was drink. And drink he did.  
  
Rude, limping from when Elena dropped a log on his foot when Reno slapped her ass with a muddy hand -- he'd been hit with her own hand later for that -- hobbled over to his own bag, still shirtless, and climbed in, the sleeping bag making several movements once it was zipped over his head. Elena shuddered and hugged her knees to her chest, having made a small fort with twigs she'd picked up during the Games out of boredom.  
  
A good fifteen minutes passed, and Rude had fallen silent, except for a slight wheeze whenever his bag descended. Elena was bored and tired at the same time, but at nearly midnight with a smoldering-out fire and the threat of wild animals around, it was hard to sleep. 'Note to Self: Next year, bring adequite supplies...and some poison,' she thought miserably, glanving at the Rude she knew was beneath that bag, then at the Reno that was sprawled halfway out of his, staring up at the sky.  
  
As if sensing eyes on him, Reno's head lolled toward her, and he smiled weirdly beneath thoughtful eyes, pulling out and lighting a cigarette before speaking, his word slow and planned. "Baaa?" Then, Reno belched loudly, and Elena rolled her eyes, knowing he was just the man to ruin it all. "Jesus, those onions are gonna kill me, and no one'll be able to sleep through the gas," he muttered around his cigarette. Just to prorve his point, he raised onto his elbows and flatuated loudly. Elena grimaced in disgust.  
  
"Be able to sleep a lot better if you and Rude were laying about two feet from each other hemorraging and vomiting. Trust me, that's a game I'd like to watch." She cracked a grin just because Reno flipped her off. "That and it's going to be cold as ice in a few hours, and I'm going to be easy coyote-food." She'd given up trying to wriggle into one of their beds -- she hated God for that thought -- and was now laying down, using her fort as a pillow before it collapsed, poking her in the back of the neck as if it were thinking she was dead. She stayed silent. Fuming.  
  
There was a moment of silence between the two. Actually, it was more of a half hour of silence in which the volume of Rude's snoring rose roughly an octive, but "a moment of silence" sounds more appropriate between a man and woman past midnight. What, you don't agree? Finally, Reno rolled his head back toward her, finally giving in. "Look. If you want somewhere to sleep, just ask." Sure, his farts were deadly, but the good came with the...Reno, take that however you may.  
  
She lifted her brow at him. Reno, doing something helpful? It was too good to be true. But she shook her head furiously, grinning inside as she explained herself. "Sorry, Reno, but I think even in sex that onion breath would get to me."  
  
But Reno was quick on the rebound, cracking a smile of his own. "So that's the only problem? Score for Reno, she wants me." Pumping a fist, he raised the other half of the sleeping bag, as if all was said and done, then was hit with a stick.  
  
"Ugh. I'd rather die. You can have my corpse all you want, sicko." But Elena knew she did need the sleep. They had until 3 P.M. to get to the bus that would take them back to headquarters, parked on the other end of the swamp. She watched in disappointment as Reno shrugged it off, reached over, and zipped the bag over his head, leaving Elena like a person on a vigil, next to two very inactive sleeping bags,  
  
'Well, it could be...' A pained wark of a chocobo, not nearly a mile away, suddenly rang out, followed by a large splash. '...a shitload better.'  
  
-  
  
--  
  
-  
  
Rude was awakened by the crackling of the radio Reno had been given, quite aware the sun had risen already. Noticing the sound wasn't too far away, Rude poked his head up, then undid the zipper and tried again. Elena was apparently the second lump in his long-time friend's sleeping bag, and the radio was right next to him, probably put there during one of their games. He reached for it, grabbed it, and hit the button on the side. "Base, this is Turk Hurst reporting. Do you read me? Over."  
  
He was greeted by a few more minutes of dull static and was about to give up, then heard Tseng's voice come through. "Rude? Knock off the military talk, I'm a little rusty these days." Rude half-mindedly noticed everything except the bags was packed. He assumed Elena had been up for awhile, or Reno was sleepwalking again. "I'm glad it's you, though. I just got a notice; I have to go to Junon on official ShinRa business and I need someone here to keep this place under wraps. How fast can you get to the meeting point? It's roughly two miles from where you are now."  
  
Rude, Mr. Football, shrugged, though he knew Tseng was blind to his current activities. Good thing, too, because Rude was a bit too far out of the sleeping bag by now, having kept up his promise of sleeping nude. "About half an hour if I run, hour if I walk tops. I won't need directions."  
  
"Anything, Rude. I apologize, this was such short notic --"  
  
"Nothing to worry about, Sir," he cut him off, pulling his pants on. "Give me twenty minutes and I should be well on my way to close. Turk Hurst, over and out." This time, there wasn't even static as he pocketed the radio and jumped up, zipping and rolling his sleeping bag within thirty seconds. From what he watch said, it was just past 9:00 AM. Wearing the empty tub as a hat, hoisting his pack onto his shoulders while everything else was attached to his pants, he started off to where he knew the meeting point was, leaving Reno and Elena the radio.  
  
-  
  
--  
  
-  
  
Rude had left an hour or two before Reno and Elena woke up. Lucky for him, because it was Elena's shocked, high-pitched scream of distress that woke her sleeping-bag partner up. Tearing the zipper straight off, she launched from the bag a bit less-smoothly than she had moved since her parents had been trying to teach her to walk. Reno, soon after, cautiously raised his head from the hole and eyed her strangely, having taken off his shirt the night before, right after he'd zipped the bag up.  
  
'Strange. Can't feel my left arm.' Then it dawned in him. The wild look Elena was wearing had something to do with her waking up nestled against his chest. And if it didn't, the onions had made him look like a three-headed chicken or something just as frightening. And so, Reno did what he did best: made it worse. "...What?"  
  
The rookie took a moment to gather her breath and -- oddly -- do up the one undone button on her shirt. Followed by the button on her suit. Both dangerously close to her -- "Y-y-your...HAND!!!" Reno winced, and all the birds to Kalm started hauling ass to Icicle Inn in pure fear. "Y-you SICK FUCK!" She looked as incredulous as Palmer had when Scarlet had recommended soy burgers.  
  
Holding up a finger, Reno closed his eyes for a moment, then wrenched his head to the side and retched loudly, vomit pouring into the dirt, barely missing the bag. Then, as calm and cool as ever, he wiped his lips and looked back to her. "You're bad at lying, 'Lena." He ducked when she threw quite the large rock directly at his head, but still felt it nick his ear, thrown in rage, and tried again. "Elena, listen to me."  
  
"NO!!" she screeched, hair frazzled from sleeping with it tied back, suit still a bit unkempt. "I don't give a FUCK what you're saying anymore! Christ, Reno, how COULD you?!! Tseng'll hear about this the SECOND I get back!"  
  
Reno kept his calm face, even appeared to be suppressing a laugh. "Can't help it, babe. Can't help being so attractive, anyway. See, part of qualifying to be a Turk -- when not signed on as a replacement, mind you -- is proving you're completely still when you sleep, for overnight, covert missions. Now, you know damn well I don't wake up for much aside from a rocket launch or a call from Rufus. Put two and two together. Try to set me up again for sexual harrassment and it turns out bad for you, Rookie." And, pulling on his shirt, he started rolling up the bag with a content look on his face.  
  
Elena chose not to reply. One, her throat had closed on her, and two, her face felt like it was on fire. 'Caught in the act. Beautiful. Real fucking nice.' Murmuring something really cruel, she leaned against a tree outside the clearing, head down, arms folded over her chest. Didn't she feel like the fool now?  
  
"Y'know, I've seen that before," Reno called back, having already started on his way, completely dismissing Rude, who always got up and left early on the annual mission. Elena reluctantly jogged after him. "Happened to this guy I bunked with in college. Tim Hortons, name was, but he always called out "SCORE ONE FOR TIMBITS!," so the name stuck. Apparently, some chick got him drunk and pulled that. Got him booted right out of the college and into jail, 'cause everyone knew what a pothead he was. No one ever believed poor Timbits, and he was automatically thrown in. Judge's daughter pinned him for it. Real crafty one."  
  
There was a long, uncomfortable silence, in which Reno lit a cigarette and started blowing a chain of smoke rings. On a real good, still day, he could do an entire bullseye. Then, in sudden realization, his head perked up. "Y'know, Rookie. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were studying my files. You knew about Judge Morenstein's daughter, didn't you?" When he got no response, he assumed he was right, but he did hear her still following. "You've been in the group for three weeks and you already know my file? Either damn good or damn obsessed."  
  
"So fucking self-centered," she muttered, making sure he couldn't hear. Elena had always done well on tests, due to the fact she had an extraordinary memory. In three weeks, yes, she did know all three Turks' files, sent to organize them by Tseng himself. It took another hour to reach the rendezvous point, but they finally did it, muddy and more than a little exhausted.  
  
There sat the navy blue van with the Turk seal on the side, large and white, their personal driver greeting Reno with a smile as he got in the back. The only reason he wasn't in the front was because Rufus was sitting there, in his crisp, clean suit with his perfectly-set hair, bangs still falling in his eyes despite the gel. A beep was heard as Elena shut the door behind her. "11:56, Reno. What happened this year, oversleep? Shit, I remember last year, you and Rude were sitting in this bus at three A.M. just to show Tseng what you were made of, and you two didn't even have flashlights." Rufus' voice, taunting but overflowing with pride and admiration.  
  
Grinning, Reno leaned forward as the van went into motion and relayed almost the entire trip to Rufus, as if he were a child talking to his Boy-Scout-loving father. He did, of course, leave out the part where he had awakened with his hand completely on Elena's chest, but it was close enough to the full version. This took most of the thirty-minute ride back to the ShinRa Building, due to the fact they were more than a good deal over the speed limit.  
  
Once out, Reno stood up and lit another smoke. He couldn't in the Turk van, due to all the illegal bugging equipment directly overhead inside. Rufus, greeted by Rude and Heideggar, nodded and the three walked off while the driver took the van to the hangar, where they parked it for lack of a better place. Now, Rufus always walked with his eyes closed and extremely slowly, so Reno and Elena passed him quickly. Once out of earshot, Reno threw an arm around Elena's shoulders and grinned.  
  
Rude tried not to smirk, knowing this would end bad, and hummed some mindless tune to keep his mind off of it. He didn't know the title, but remembered some claymation skeleton dancing around, dressed as Santa Claus. Something to do with Halloween.  
  
"So, 'Lena...remember, if you "forget" your bag next year, my offer still stands, though this time I expect a full payment."  
  
Rufus' footsteps came to a halt, arms clasped behind his waist and eyes still pinched closed, in about twenty seconds, right before he heaved a sigh, listening to Elena storm off and Rude snort violently. "Reno, if you would please move your ugly, handprinted head from my path."  
  
"My apologies...sir..."  
  
-Fin 


End file.
